


that’s the gift that holds me

by theappleppielifestyle



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-09-28 04:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: Tony asks if there’s anything he missed while he was away -away,he says, because it’s easier than sayinghey did anything interesting go down while I was kidnapped and getting tortured in a cave- and Rhodey hesitates before saying no.(Or, an Iron Man AU where Steve is defrosted while Tony is in Afghanistan.)





	that’s the gift that holds me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey remember how Tony's living in the Malibu house in IM1 and SHIELD has Steve in New York? Ignore the fuck out of that. Maybe they sent Steve over to Malibu for unspecified reasons, who knows. Also the IM1 timeline gets shifted around a little.

Tony asks if there’s anything he missed while he was away - _ away _ , he says, because it’s easier than saying _ hey did anything interesting go down while I was kidnapped and getting tortured in a cave _ \- and Rhodey hesitates before saying no.

Tony eyes him. He’s in a hospital cot, and only because Rhodey begged him to get into it after they got out of the helicopter and onto the base. He’s had 16 hours of uninterrupted sleep since they dragged him out of the desert and he’s fine. He’s really, truly _ fine _ . He’s not - he’s not _ fine _fine, but he’s his brand new version of fine that might involve more sharp edges than his old version, so there’s no reason for Rhodey to coddle him like this.

“Rhodey,” Tony says. “Don’t hold out on me. I won’t shatter into tiny pieces if you tell me something bad.”

“It’s not-” Rhodey sighs. “It’s not… bad. It’s, uh. It’s surreal.”

“Surreal.”

“Yeah.” Rhodey rubs a hand over his mouth. “We, uh. We found Captain America.”

Tony stares. That’s shocking enough, and it would be enough to rock him without Rhodey continuing with, “He’s alive.”

Tony laughs. When Rhodey doesn’t laugh, Tony stares. 

“Alive,” he repeats. “What, like - like he’s - _ what _?”

“He’s up and talking,” Rhodey says. “I don’t exactly have clearance for this kind of information, but Obie found out and - well, he didn’t tell me, but I was in the right place at the right-”

“He’s - conscious. Walking around.”

“Apparently. Yeah.”

“You’ve _ seen- _”

“From a distance.”

Tony stares some more. His chest throbs. He ignores it. 

“Shit,” he says. “So he’s - is he still the same _ age _?”

“Yeah. Went into a coma when the ship went into the ocean.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters. His chest throbs again, this time hard enough that his hand flickers up to touch the reactor, glancing off of it when he remembers that Rhodey’s right here. Rhodey’s obviously not comfortable with it, though he’s considerably more comfortable than he was when he thought it was a bomb strapped to Tony’s chest.

If Rhodey notices the motion, he doesn’t acknowledge it. His gaze stays trained on Tony’s.

“Very surreal,” Tony says after a while.

“You’re telling me.”

“I go away for three months,” Tony says. “And we finally find Cap. I should’ve gotten kidnapped earlier.”

_ That _ makes Rhodey react - he says _ hey _and reaches out, squeezing Tony’s shoulder. Tony determinedly doesn’t flinch, but it’s an effort.

“Don’t joke,” Rhodey says. “I know you’re gonna - I know you will later, but right now? We just - _ I _just got you back, man. How about you leave the jokes to when you’re all healed up?”

“I am healed up.”

Rhodey gives him a look. Tony gives him one right back, and continues not to flinch as a bolt of pain hits his chest. Still healing - yeah, okay. 

“We’re gonna be home soon,” Rhodey says. “And I know you wanna-”

“-we can go now, why aren’t we already gone? Fire up the helicopter and let’s-”

“You should rest.”

“I’m rested! I’m good. Don’t give me that look. I’m - locked and loaded and ready to party, let’s go.”

Rhodey’s face changes: his eyes get all big and soft and he smiles like it hurts, like Rhodey’s the one in pain watching Tony lying here, and there’s so much relief and - and _ love _mixed up in it that Tony has to look away. 

“We’ll head off soon,” Rhodey says. “I know you’re eager to get back.”

_ Eager _. That’s one word for it. Tony runs over his plans in his head - not fully formed, sure, but they’re solid. Solid like a machine in his chest. He has it like a list, full of things to be ticked off. First off -

“Damn right,” Tony says. “Let’s get me home.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Less than a day later, Tony is in a car with Pepper, who keeps glancing at him like she’s waiting for him to disappear, on the way back from a press conference.

Pepper obviously has a lot to say after that conference, but she seems to be waiting to say it. Tony’s relieved. It was a lot, with seeing Obie again and all those cameras in his face, which he never thought could freak him out after living this life. Three months of a dark cave will do unexpected things, apparently.

“Where to,” Happy says from the front seat. He’s been especially chatty today, like he’s trying to lighten the mood.

Tony opens his mouth to say _ home _, but stops. He pulls out his phone and looks over the co-ordinates he’d found as he was hacking into some databases that shouldn’t have been so hard to get into.

He reads out the address. 

Happy says, “You got it. What’s over there, Boss?”

“An asset of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division,” Tony says.

Pepper looks at him, but just purses her lips. When he raises her eyebrows at her, she just shakes her head.

“This is very unlike you,” he tells her.

She laughs. It’s watery, but she covers that up fast. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll be yelling at you soon. Give me - half an hour.”

“Looking forward to it, Potts.” He turns to look out the window, but the silence is deafening, so he continues, “Want to stop and get some honey for your throat? Really loosen up those muscles. After this long of no me to yell at, those yelling muscles gotta be flagging. Happy, where’s the nearest honey place-”

“Just keep driving, Happy,” Pepper says. Then, to Tony: “Thank you for your concern, but my throat is fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Well,” Tony says. “If you’re positive.”

He sits back against the seat and closes his eyes. Pretends he can’t notice Pepper and Happy looking at him, or glancing at each other - he can’t see it but he can sense it, a prickle of unease at the back of his neck. He focuses on the rumble of the car, because the car means he’s back home, he didn’t get to go in any cars when he was kidnapped. He’s home, he’s fine, Happy’s driving him somewhere like he’s done a million times before, Pepper at his side. 

Everything’s fine.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Pepper finally breaks as they’re about to pull up to the apartment block.

“This must be important for you to make this your first stop before going home,” she says.

He shakes his head. “First stop was the burger place,” he says. “This is-”

He can’t figure out what to follow that up with._ We found Captain America. He’s in there somewhere. The place that found him - which is apparently way more important than I assumed - set him up with an apartment and is - along with a ton of other organizations - probably going to do other stuff with him, because it’s Captain Fucking America. Why am I doing this again? This seems like the kind of thing I can put off. _

His chest throbs in time with his heartbeat. He’s been assured by the doctor back at the base that will probably stop at some point, unless it’s psychological, then - well. Tony hopes it doesn’t become psychological.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he says.

Pepper and Happy trade another look. Tony ignores it again and starts opening the door.

“I’ll come with,” Happy says, too fast. 

Tony rolls his eyes as Happy launches himself from the driver’s seat and comes around Tony’s side of the car.

“I’ll be fine-”

“I’m your bodyguard, you need to be guarded-”

“My body isn’t in any danger right now, you can wait in the car and guard Pepper’s body-”

“It’s my job, you’re telling me I don’t need to do my job? You just got kidnapped-”

Tony does jazz hands. It’s not his proudest moment. “And I’m fine now! Look at me! Hap, I’m just - I’m going to go talk to someone. It’ll take five minutes.”

“Who’re you talking to?”

Tony sighs. He waves for Happy to lean closer and Happy does.

“So,” Tony says, and then pauses. Pepper is eyeing them both from the car, window rolled down, her hand on the handle. Tony sighs again, louder this time.

“Huddle,” he tells them, and Happy moves closer to Pepper.

Tony tells them. He doesn’t give them much information, because he doesn’t have a lot even after hacking into a ton of databases. They repeat a lot of questions, which is understandable. Happy keeps looking up at the apartment building with his face all scrunched, going, “Captain _ America _?” like someone had just told him an action figure has come to life and is within walking distance.

“This seems like the kind of thing that can wait,” Pepper says. 

“Why wait,” Tony says. “Come on, this has been a loose end my whole life. And he’s _ alive _ . We never thought he’d be _ alive _.”

“And that’s great,” Pepper says. “But you have-”

She glances down at his chest. Tony fights the urge to make sure his tie is covering the bulge.

“-bigger things to worry about,” she finishes.

Tony shrugs. “What’s bigger than _ Cap _,” he says, and when that gets him twin unimpressed looks: “It’s five minutes. It was my expedition after it got passed down. I should get to see what it turned up. Five minutes,” he repeats when Pepper tries to keep talking.

He waves at Happy. “You can come, but don’t crowd me, alright?”

“You got it, Boss,” Happy says, and then he proceeds to linger uncomfortably close to Tony for the whole walk and elevator ride up. Tony has to tell him to step back three times, but he’s not too annoyed - if anything, it’s comforting to have Happy’s usual enthusiasm for his role, and he actually seems to give a shit about Tony’s wellbeing beyond the paycheck. Nowadays, that’s pretty much all Tony can ask for.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


As Tony approaches the apartment door, he becomes increasingly sure that he’s being an idiot and he should just go home and focus on his work - make the arc reactor with actual tools instead of what he could cobble together in the cave; start in on re-building his company from the ground up - but he assures himself that most of it is from the absurdity of the situation.

_ Captain America is behind this door, _ Tony thinks as they come up to it. It’s a perfectly normal door with the number 34 on it in gold letters. It’s a little shabby, but not overly so. What the fuck would Cap’s apartment look like on the inside? Would he have knick-knacks on his shelves? Would he bother with shelves at all?

Tony takes a deep breath, winces at the feel of it, and then knocks.

Next to him, Happy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but doesn’t want to let it show. Tony knows how he feels, but he’s hiding it better.

Nothing happens. Tony waits, then knocks again.

Nothing.

Happy looks just as relieved and disappointed as Tony. 

“Maybe your intel was wrong,” he says.

“Maybe,” Tony says. He’s thinking vaguely of picking the lock when a voice behind them says, “Do you folks need something?”

Tony knows that voice. He’s heard it in the newsreels that Howard made him watch as a kid. 

He turns. There’s a guy coming down the hall in a new-looking pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, which is enough to make Tony think_ maybe not _, but then he looks at the guy’s face, which is as wary as his voice.

If Tony’s intel is right, Cap woke up two months ago to the day.

Cap comes to a stop in front of them. “This is my apartment,” he says. “Are you looking-”

His face changes. Tony’s been recognized before, more times than he can remember, but this is the first time it makes Tony’s throat go tight. 

Cap’s eyes narrow, then widen. His expression sharpens with shock, then softens into something that makes Tony want to hide, then tidies up into something more normal.

“Hi,” Cap says.

Tony waves. “Hey. So, you’re Cap.”

The normal expression flickers. “That’s me. You’re - Stark.”

“The younger.” Tony grins. “Or, only. For a while now. I don’t know why I said younger.”

He waits for Cap to say something like _ you look a lot like Howard _ or the usual bullshit that Tony gets from guys who were around in the 40s, but the guy just stands there looking uncomfortable and tense.

“I’m Happy Hogan,” Happy says, holding out a hand. “It’s an honour to meet you, Sir.”

Cap blinks. He smiles, but it’s just as tense as his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he says, and shakes Happy’s hand. “Good to meet you.”

“You too, Sir.” Happy looks thrilled about it. 

Tony takes in the tightness in Steve’s posture and says, “Hap, why don’t you meet me in the car?”

Happy hesitates.

“It’s _ Captain America, _” Tony says. “What do you think is gonna happen? If something does happen, he’ll just punch the problem away. Right, Cap?”

“Sure,” Cap says after a moment where he seems to struggle for a reply.

Happy checks it with Tony twice - yes, he’s really going to be fine if he leaves - before he heads off down the hall. After he’s out of earshot, Tony says, “Sorry to interrupt. You go for a lot of runs?”

Steve eyes him. “Sometimes,” he says, and swallows. Folds his arms. “When I was out, I saw - there was a TV in a shop window. Your press conference was on it.”

Tony smiles. It’s a very specific smile, his I-am-so-uncomfortable-but-I-would-rather-chew-off-my-own-leg-than-show-it smile, as Rhodey named it in MIT.

“Yeah? You catch much of it?”

“All of it.”

Tony nods. Smiles some more. Wonders what the hell you say to a guy who’s been woken up to find that seventy years has gone by without him. 

“I heard about-” Cap pauses. “I’m - glad you got out of there, soldier.”

It comes like a flood: the soldiers in the convoy with him, the kid holding up a peace sign before the world blows to pieces. Pinpricks of painful light. The deafening stutter of gunshots as men and women in uniforms grab guns, as Tony tries to grab a gun but it’s jammed and everything is happening too fast. Yinsen bleeding out with multiple gunshots in his chest -

Tony snaps, “I’m _ not _a-”

He stops, reigns it back in. He hadn’t expected that, and now he’s breathing heavily. His eyes are shiny, heavy, so he blinks hard to get rid of that and hoists up a smile again.

Cap doesn’t look convinced, but Tony doesn’t blame him.

Before Cap can do anything mortifying, like apologise, Tony says, “Do you have coffee in there?”

He points at the apartment door. Steve looks at it for a moment. 

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Tony says. He regrets it as soon as he’s said it - it’s a lie, obviously, it’s just something to say to fill silence, he’s not going to tell Cap _ details _about what happened. He’s not going to tell anyone. 

But it makes something shift in Cap’s face, and then Tony finds himself being invited inside.

Cap does bother with shelves, it turns out. They’re very bare.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Cap pours them some instant coffee. They sit around the kitchen counter, because there’s no table anywhere.

“How’d you escape,” Cap says.

Right to business, then.

“I built a metal suit,” Tony says. “Then I walked.”

Flight, the wonder of it, along with the first glimpse of the sky in a long time. The crash, climbing out of a metal skeleton. Looking into the distance and seeing nothing but sand. That first step, and then the second. The thousandth step. The ten-thousandth. Walk or lie down and die, and even if you keep walking you might die anyway -

“The good guys found me after a while,” Tony says. 

“They were still looking?”

“Yeah. Rhodey made them.” Tony smiles against his will, the most genuine smile since he’s got here, which is a problem. He generally tries not to do genuine smiles if he knows he’ll be faking it around someone, and this seems like the kind of situation where he’ll be all fake, all the time. Or at least - strained. Hidden. When he notices he’s smiling into his coffee at the thought of Rhodey, he pulls it together into something more casual.

“And they brought me home,” he says. He takes a mouthful of coffee so he has something to do.

Cap nods. “How’re you finding it?”

“I _ just _got back, give me a minute,” Tony says. Then, “I had a burger for the first time in three months. Good, hearty, American burger. Best one of my life.”

“I bet.” Cap won’t stop looking at him. He only seems to notice this when Tony raises his eyebrows, at which point Steve hastily drops his gaze and starts drinking his coffee.

“So,” Tony says. “You saw me on TV earlier.”

“Yep.”

“And?”

Cap keeps drinking his coffee. “And?”

“Does the mighty Captain America approve?”

Cap puts down his coffee, and for the first time Tony realizes how fucking _ tired _ he looks. It’s only for a second, then Cap is pulling a blank face on, but for that second Cap looks like he’s lived through all that time he spent in the ice. Oh god, was he _ conscious _down there?

“Were you conscious in the ice,” Tony blurts, and then backtracks when Cap’s blank expression flinches into something more urgent.

“Sorry,” he says. He’s having one of his moments where he’s made out of sharp edges and is sure none of them will ever smooth and he’s going to go through life cutting everyone on them. “Shit, just ignore me. I don’t mean to be - you’re obviously, uh. Going through a lot. I don’t mean to be a dick.”

Cap rubs his thumb along the rim of his cup, the motion so small Tony almost doesn’t catch it.

“I feel like that’s my line,” he says.

“What? Ignore me? I don’t mean to be a dick?”

“You’re obviously going through a lot.”

“What am I going through?” Tony skulls his coffee. He could ask for something stronger, but he doubts there will be anything. “That’s all over with. Nothing’s going on with me now. I’m back.”

“And overhauling your company,” Cap says. He pauses. “Going back to the old life, then? Should we expect photos to come out of you with four dames on your arms? Shirtless and climbing national monuments?”

Oh god, Cap has _ Googled _him. 

“That was once,” Tony says, “and I was 19.”

Cap has seen his nipples. His teenage, paint-and-tequila-streaked nipples. Jesus.

“Maybe I’m taking a break from the old life,” Tony says. “Taking something else up for a bit. What’s with you, then? How are _ you _doing, Cap?”

“Steve,” Cap says, in such a rush that Tony thinks that he’s been holding back on it. “You don’t have to call me Cap. My name’s Steve.”

Tony wonders briefly if anyone’s called the guy Steve since he woke up.

“Steve,” he says, slowly. “How’re you doing.”

“I’m fine.” He smiles and it’s nowhere near as distracting, as dazzling, as Tony’s fake smiles. It’s small and modest and so goddamn false that Tony wants to give him lessons.

“I’m back,” Steve says, and Tony almost winces. Half at the repetition of what Tony had said, and half at the sudden, unexpected throb from the knot of scar tissue inside and around the arc reactor. He has a sudden vision of Steve going for a jog, running around the streets that would’ve once been familiar to him and were now a new blur, running like he could escape from this place if he just went fast enough.

“Uh-huh,” Tony says. He drinks from his coffee cup, which is empty now, but he wants something to do with his hands. 

“Well,” he says. “Good to have you back with us, C - Steve.”

“You too,” Steve says, quiet and steady.

Tony’s head swims with nervous energy. He wants to - do something for this guy, because he just seems so lost in his bare apartment, his shoulders squared, his expression measured and very obviously faux-calm, the calm that’s hiding something.

He gives Steve his number. Steve has a cellphone, and neither of them comment on that, which Steve seems grateful for. Steve texts him so Tony will have his number -_ this is Steve Rogers _, is what he texts, and Tony doesn’t comment on that either - and walks Tony to the door. They don’t wave, but they nod at each other, and then Tony steps out and the door closes and Tony stands in the hall for a second, letting it sink in.

Captain America. Huh.

He starts down the hall. By the time he gets to the elevator, his thoughts have already turned to adding the finishing touches to the arc reactor and calls he has to make for SI, things he has to mention to Pepper. He pushes Cap - Steve - to the back of his mind.

He has shit to take care of, and it seems like Steve does too.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Obie says that Cap might be an asset.

“Even at worst, he’ll be helpful to have at your side,” he says.

Tony nods, eyes on his tablet. Obie’s been saying a lot of things about assets and who Tony should talk to and what Tony should do for the company - he’s much more involved than he was before Tony’s kidnapping, but Tony isn’t surprised. He did announce a huge overhaul of SI, which means that there will be changes abound.

Obie has, thank god, given up on trying to talk Tony back into weapons manufacturing. He still obviously wants him to get back into it, but after a week he stops mentioning it. Tony assumes he’s biding his time, but he’s not worried. He’s not going to go back for anything.

He knows what he’s doing. No one can change his course now.

He makes another version of the arc reactor. He makes blueprints, sketches plans for more blueprints, sets out alternate plans for where he can go with green energy and foriegn aid efforts. He has dozens - hundreds, really - of smaller ideas on the backburner, waiting to get focused on.

He works on the suit. This doesn’t take up most of his time, but it’s at the back of his head the rest of the time - when he’s drawing up other plans, he’ll be distantly thinking of the left gauntlet, the fine-tuning of the torso plates, how it’ll all fit together. It feels purer than anything else, pure in a way that burns through him, incinerating anything that isn’t his _ cause _, his blazing attempt to fix what hes’s done, his weapons turned on the people he was meaning to protect, his weapons getting turned on the bad guys and catching innocents in the crossfire.

He fixes things. He’ll _ fix _this.

He just has to finish the suit. Everything else is slow - green energy and foriegn aid takes a lot of meetings and politics, but the suit is solely his. It’s his in a way nothing else has been before, in a way that makes him think he might have a soul after all.

He stays awake until he crashes or until Pepper comes down to check on him or Obie texts him or Rhodey calls. He eats when he remembers and tries to stay hydrated enough that he doesn’t get headaches, and tries to work on a thousand different things at once, all the while with the suit in the back of his head.

He’s idly coming up with a mental blueprint of the repulsors - one in each palm - as he hacks into a gym’s security cameras and watches Captain America break three punching bags, one after the other. He pays for them, because of course he does. Then he comes back the next day and breaks another couple punching bags. Rinse, repeat.

Tony orders a reinforced punching bag to be sent to Steve’s apartment. He doesn’t think much of it, and then gets back to the repulsors.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Two days later, Tony gets his second text from Steve. It says _ Thanks _ . _Quit watching me._

Tony texts back _ did it work? _

The reply takes a few hours:_ Almost. Thanks again. _

Tony’s drafting the preliminary designs of his own version of a reinforced punching bag before he even exits out of the text.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A week later, he flies for the second time. It’s a lot better than his first time, because he’s not working with cave scraps. Instead of blasting into the sky and falling down to the sand, Tony _ soars _\- he careens over the city, swooping in giant arcs that he actually manages to control after the juddery liftoff. There’s a terrifying bit where nearly dies from an ice buildup that shuts the suit down as he’s tens of thousands feet in the sky, but these things happen in test runs. He recovers before he hits the ground, which is the important part.

He falls into a car and crushes it when he flies back to the workshop, which is - fine. Tony honestly doesn’t care about the car, or his more-than-wobbly landing. He pries the suit off of him, vibrating with adrenaline all the while, yelling notes to JARVIS as each piece falls to the workshop floor. 

He is a live wire of possibilities. He’s a cocktail of impossible nerves. He feels like he’s just discovered the atom. He feels -

He texts Steve with shaking hands.

_ What was it like after the serum? How did it feel, the very first day of it? _

He doesn’t expect a reply, and it doesn’t come for a while. Tony is finally heading up to bed 12 hours later, stumbling with weariness, when the text comes in.

_ I had lung issues before. It was good finally being able to breathe. _

Tony laughs. His breath catches on it. 

_ It was good finally being able to breathe _, Tony thinks, and remembers the wide-eyed wonder of flight, gasping air, each breath a hard yank in his chest. The reactor had saved him, sure, but it had also taken about a quarter of Tony’s lungs.

Another text comes in: _ Thank you for the new bag. _

Tony texts back, _ did it work? _

As he’s climbing into bed, his phone vibrates, but Tony’s already gone. In the morning - or, 14 hours later, which is actually the evening - the text is still there.

It reads: _ So far. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Christine Everheart confronts him at a party and the persona Tony puts on for these events evaporates. Gulmira - that was Yinsen’s hometown. And it was getting destroyed by Tony’s own weapons.

He’s halfway down the steps when Obie catches him, and Tony is brutally reminded why he hasn’t told anyone - but Obie _ especially _\- about the suit.

_ Who do you think locked you out of the company, Tony? _

Tony shoves it to the back of his head and goes home to the suit.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Steve texts Tony that he wants to meet up and Tony keeps the phone next to him, glancing over at it every thirty seconds, for about half an hour before he gives in and replies, _ sure, will have a car pick you up. _

Steve has reservations about this. Tony sends a car anyway.

Another half hour later, Steve emerges into the lounge with a pinched expression.

“I could have walked,” he says.

“I know,” Tony says. “But this is faster. What’s up, got a scandal you need me to cover? I could be your alibi. We could say we were in-”

“No,” Steve says. He looks a little appalled, which is disappointing but not unexpected. The look quickly gives way when he comes closer to Tony, who is on a couch with a glass of scotch.

Tony tries to look casual as Steve’s gaze touches on the abrasion on his forehead where he’d banged his head against the suit during a particularly intense curve; the bruise on his wrist that happened when he’d been blasted by a missile; the cut on his nose from busting it against the mask.

Steve is quiet for long enough that Tony starts to panic, and is about to say whatever the hell comes to mind when Steve says, “Air force demonstration, huh?”

Shit. Tony schools his face into the most innocent expression he can manage. 

“Hmm?”

“There was an incident. You must’ve heard about it, your friend Rhodes was on TV.”

“Oh, that.” Tony waves a hand, sips his scotch. “Yeah, the news blew it out of proportion. You know how tabloids are.”

Steve stands there and folds his arms. Tony feels very, very scrutinized.

“You don’t believe the Air Force,” he says. “I thought everyone trusted the government in your day.”

“Well, if that’s what everyone thinks.”

It’s a little pissy. Tony grins into his glass - Captain America can be _ pissy _.

“You didn’t? Yet you still climbed into a pressure cooker and let them stick needles in you.”

Steve shrugs. “I had a short life expectancy anyway. Are you up to something, Tony?”

Tony lowers his glass. What contacts does Steve have with SHIELD, and how fucking tuned in were they?

“What’ve you heard,” Tony asks.

“Enough.”

Tony snorts. “What if I am up to something? Gonna turn me in? That guy, whatsisface - Coulson, he’s been sniffing around and I don’t know if I buy his whole ‘my suit’s too big and I totally don’t notice, this definitely isn’t a farce to make me seem unthreatening’ schtick. I know the type.”

He takes a gulp of scotch and tilts the glass towards Steve. “Want some? Got a really good vintage somewhere around here-”

“No,” Steve says.

“To the vintage, or-”

“I’m not gonna turn you in, Tony,” Steve says. “I’m just curious.”

The sound of his name makes Tony’s jaw click shut. It feels - weird, not in a bad way, but - still _ weird _. 

He chins himself on the edge of his glass, which he’s propping up in his hand. He looks at Steve. Steve looks right back at him. _ Steady _. Steady is a good word to use when Steve’s involved.

“You’re just _ curious _,” Tony repeats.

Steve nods. “Seems like you’re getting yourself into - something.”

“And you’re asking me about it because you… what, blackmail?”

“No!” He actually looks offended. It’s cute.

“You want in?”

“N-” Steve pauses. Adjusts his folded arms.

Tony wonders what the guy’s been doing with his time, other than beating gym bags to pulps. Does he read? Watch sitcoms? Do crossword puzzles and lament his tragic lot in life?

Steve might not want _ in _, but he wants something more than he’s got.

Tony can relate.

“What would you say about getting out of that shithole SHIELD put you into,” Tony says. “An easy, convenient location to store you until they need you. You just know they’ve bugged the place.”

Steve looks at him like he doesn’t know what to make of him.

Tony’s gotten that look enough to know how to roll with it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It takes some convincing - along with a promise that JARVIS won’t get audio or video of Steve unless it’s an emergency - but Steve moves in that night.

Honestly, Tony thinks he does it because he doesn’t have anything else. After everything the guy has been through recently, why _ not _move in with a weird, rude billionaire who is up to something potentially dangerous that he won’t tell you about? 

Tony will tell him. Soon. Just not on move-in night.

“Give me a second to breathe,” Tony says when Steve brings it up, after he’s gone around and gotten the rest of his stuff - which is a small suitcase of clothes and books, pathetic in any means, and he refused to let Tony send a car for it - and Steve, surprisingly, lets it rest for now. Another casualty of the ‘sure, whatever, why not,’ in Tony’s opinion. Despite this, Tony makes a mental note to check if Steve starts skulking around anytime soon. Somehow he wouldn’t put it past him.

Just as Steve is about to retreat into the room that Tony assigns him - he’d looked so lost when turned towards the rooms and told to choose one so Tony bites the bullet - there are familiar footsteps incoming.

“Shit,” Tony says, quiet enough that no one without superhearing could hear it. He thinks about shoving Steve into the nearest room and acting casual. He has a bizarre moment where he seriously considers shoving Steve against the wall and making out with him as a distraction that Obie will walk away from, but he disregards that just as Obie turns down the hall.

“There you are! I-”

Obie cuts off when he sees Steve. There’s a moment of undisguised shock before he recovers, coming up and clapping Steve on the shoulder.

“Captain! What are you doing at Tony’s humble abode?”

Steve doesn’t react to the shoulder clap, or the prolonged squeeze that happens before Obie drops his hand. He smiles and it’s perfectly polite, but there might be something underneath it. Or Tony’s projecting. One of the two.

“Tony had me over for a talk,” Steve says. “About Howard.”

Tony’s face probably does something. Obie’s definitely does, though it all happens behind his usual friendly blankness. 

“Oh, that was nice of him,” Obie says. “Tony doesn’t talk much about his old man, I’m glad he gets to do it with you. I gotta say, though, if it’s Howard stories you want, you’d be better off talking to me. I have the best ones. Not to say that Tony doesn’t-”

“What’s up, Obie,” Tony says. 

“Hmm?”

“What brings you here?” 

“Ah, nothing important. Wanted to see how my guy was doing.”

He squeezes Tony’s shoulder this time. Tony endures the hardness of it - Obie was never good at putting on the right amount of pressure - and tries to push back both his skin crawling and the screaming stream of thought that went a lot like, _ he’d never hurt you! It’s OBIE, he wouldn’t betray you, you’re just being paranoid, you GET like this _ -

“Well, here I am,” Tony says. “Doing fine.”

“As always,” Obie says. He laughs. Keeps his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “So how did you two meet? Steve, when I got to meet you at SHIELD, you mentioned that you hadn’t gotten the chance to meet Tony yet.”

“I hadn’t,” Steve says. “We met a week after that, actually.”

Obie keeps smiling. “A week! Must’ve been pretty soon after Tony got back.”

“I swung by after the press conference,” Tony says. “Just to say hi. Check what SI brought back.”

“Great,” Obie says. “That’s great.”

They stand there in the hall, and Tony waits. There’s an energy here that he doesn’t love, and he doesn’t know if he’s inventing it or if the others feel it too.

Obie’s eyes are on him and Tony knows he’ll want more details later, that he’s going to ask why Tony hadn’t told him he’d met Captain America before this, why he hadn’t been planning with him on how to make him _ useful _.

Then again, maybe Obie will back off. _ Who do you think shut you out of the company, Tony _, is good enough fodder to not be talkative for a while.

Tony thinks it’s because of that that Obie doesn’t stick around and pry. Instead he claps Tony’s shoulder and says, “Well! Call me if you need anything.”

“Yep.”

“It was good to see you again, Captain Rogers.”

“You too, Sir.”

Obie hugs Tony. Tony lets him, and then Obie leaves. Tony waits until he gets out of the hall, then gestures at Steve to walk with him.

They walk for about thirty seconds, down into a living room with a few couches, before Tony says, “So, this thing I’m doing. It might involve Obie.”

“Might?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Tony runs a hand down his face, careful on the cuts. “We just - me and Pep - Pepper, my assistant - we’re trying to confirm if Obie’s - if we need to do something about Obie.”

Steve folds his arms. 

_ Game time, _Tony thinks. 

“What kind of something?”

“I don’t know. Kick him out of the company, at best. Have him arrested for attempted murder at worst.”

Steve frowns. “You think - he had you kidnapped?”

“Yeah.” Tony rubs his face some more. “Maybe. We don’t - maybe. What vibe do you get from him?”

“I don’t like him,” Steve says instantly.

Tony laughs. “That was fast.”

Steve shrugs. “Sometimes you just know. I’m not saying your suspicious are confirmed, just that something seems off about him.”

He pauses. When Tony sits down on a couch, Steve sits down on the next cushion.

“You two have known each other a long time,” he says.

“Forever, in my case.” Tony’s hands itch for a scotch, any kind of booze really. Why doesn’t he have a bar in this room? “Uncle Obie,” he continues, and hesitates. 

He looks over at Steve, who looks back. His back is straight, his shoulders are back. He meets Tony’s gaze. 

_ Steady _, Tony thinks.

“He locked me out of the company,” Tony says. “Told them I had PTSD. Uh, post traumatic-”

“I know what it is,” Steve says.

That’s a surprise. Tony doesn’t ask why he knows.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. 

“Yeah, well. It happens.”

“It might not be true,” Steve says. “Maybe he’s really trying to help.”

“Maybe,” Tony says.

He leans back against the couch, lets his head fall back.

Beside him, Steve shifts. Tony imagines his back, still ramrod straight.

“How are you doing,” Tony asks.

Steve is quiet for a second, then: “Fine. Thinking about how long it’ll be before I get sent back into active duty.”

“You can say no.”

“I can,” Steve says. “But I’ll have to stop eventually.”

“Do you want to go on active duty?”

“Yes.

“You don’t have to.”

“Neither do you.”

Tony’s eyes fly open. He sits up. Steve is still, yes, sitting ramrod straight on the couch, like he doesn’t know how to be anything else. Maybe he doesn’t. How can he not? Even with seventy years of history behind them, Steve had only been Cap for two years before he went into the ice. Before that -

“That’s different,” Tony says.

“Why?”

“I have-” Tony’s chest throbs. He doesn’t touch it, but he has to breathe slowly. “I _ have _to do this.”

Steve doesn’t look away.

“So do I,” he says.

“That’s not - you don’t have anything to make up for.”

“I have this,” Steve says. He looks down at his hands, which flex against his knees. “Nobody else has this. There was supposed to be an army of supersoldiers, but it’s just me. I have to do something with it.”

Tony stares. Steve keeps looking at his hands - they’re the same size as they were before, that skinny frame had big hands and feet and was rumoured to have _ another _big thing that didn’t change after the serum, but they were never able to verify that. 

It’d be nice, Tony assumes, to be able to look down at your hands and have something that didn’t change.

_ I have to do something with it. _

The thing is, Tony’s been distancing himself from everyone since he got back. Obie, sure - but also Rhodey, Pepper, Happy. They’ve all mentioned it to him, been worried about how deeply he’s digging into his work, all that intensity, like nothing else does matter.

_ There’s the next mission, _ Tony had told Pepper after she’d found him. _ And nothing else. _

The rest of the world is so distant, compared to that. 

But it seems like Steve is pretty damn distant, too.

“Come with me,” Tony says.

“Where to,” Steve says, but he’s already getting up.

Tony says, “I’m gonna show you what I’m up to.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


If Steve is bewildered by the workshop, he doesn’t show it. He takes his time looking around in clear interest, right up until he sees the suit, at which point he stops, hands in his pockets, and stares. The suit is all put together on the pad, posed like it’s ready for flight, only the left gauntlet off, which is lying on the workbench in pieces.

“Huh,” Steve says, as Tony stands near the door and tries not to watch Steve too closely.

Steve circles the suit slowly, eyeing it in a way that makes Tony want to vibrate out of his skin. Steve bends a little to get a look at the suit’s waist and legs, and then reaches out. He glances over at Tony, hand in mid-air, and then when Tony nods, he touches a plate than runs down the hip.

“This is what was in the airspace,” Steve asks.

Tony nods again.

Steve touches the suit’s gauntlet, bends to see the repulsor.

“It _ flies _,” he clarifies.

Tony nods.

Steve’s mouth twitches. He steps back, nodding like he’s just checked out a very agreeable car. “_ This _ is what we hoped the future would be like.”

“Flying suits of armour?”

“No, but-” Steve waves a hand at the suit. “It’s - I, we thought there’d be robots.”

“No robot. Just me inside it.”

Steve looks over at Tony. “You? Not JARVIS?”

“Nope. All me.”

Steve circles the suit again. A small smile keeps tugging at his mouth.

“How do you pilot it,” Steve asks.

Tony hesitates. Even bringing Steve down here feels like a massive risk, he doesn’t want to break down the suit’s secrets.

Steve must notice Tony’s reluctance, because he backtracks.

“Nevermind,” he says. “So it’s - you get in somehow, and turn it on, and fly around?”

“Basically.”

Steve keeps looking at it, gaze flickering around like he’s trying to figure out how all the joints work. 

Tony sighs. Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk, he thinks, and asks, “Want to see it in action?”

Steve turns to him fast enough that he seems embarrassed by it.

“Yeah! I mean - sure, if you want to show me.”

Tony bites back a smile. He re-attached the gauntlet, then steps onto the proper place on the pad.

“Might want to stand back,” he says. “JARVIS, commence operation Badass.”

“Of course,” JARVIS says, and Tony waits. He’s made it a smoother ride since last time, but it’s the very same rush: the machinery coming into place and fitting the armor around him, piece by piece until just his face is uncovered, and then the faceplate closes around him and he’s cocooned by it, a shell of metal.

He steps off the pad and turns to Steve. 

“What do you think,” Tony says, his voice coming out in a modulated way he still hasn’t gotten used to.

Steve’s smiling, but he’s trying to hide it.

“I think I haven’t seen much to think about yet,” he says. “You said it could fly?”

Tony starts the repulsors. Steve doesn’t jump back, but it’s close, and he watches as Tony rises into the air.

“Whoa,” Steve says. He’s smiling in earnest now. “You took that thing up with jets?”

“Fuck yes I did.”

“How’d it do?”

Tony does a careful - okay, semi-careful - lap around the ceiling of the workshop.

“Want to find out,” he asks, coming to a stop in front of Steve, hovering.

Steve’s eyes light up even as he stammers through _ I don’t know about that _, so Tony just waits, shutting the repulsors off slowly and coming down to the ground, at which point Steve has argued himself into saying, “I - if you know how to handle that thing, sure.”

“I know how to handle it,” Tony says. 

There’s a moment where they both realize that this could be very awkward, and Tony turns around to present his back. “Uh. Grab on, I guess.”

Steve’s arms come up to circle Tony’s neck. “Do I just-”

“The most high tech piggyback in the world coming up,” Tony says. “Come on, no homo, lock those legs around me, Cap.”

Steve makes a noise that isn’t unlike a laugh - does he know what _ no homo _ means? Does he even know what _ homo _means? - then there’s movement behind Tony and Steve’s legs are hugging Tony’s waist. 

Tony focuses on not thinking any thoughts about legs around waists. Or riding.

“Now,” Tony says. “You have superstrength, so if you fall off it’s your own fault and I will not stop to catch you. You did it to yourself.”

“Don’t go jet speeds, alright?”

“No promises.”

“How many times have you flown this thing, anyway?”

“Two.”

“Two - _ Tony- _”

Tony fires up the repulsors again. “Hold on tight, spidermonkey,” he says, and takes off.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s a cold night and Tony feels absolutely none of it as they streak out of the workshop and into the sky.

Steve shouts and Tony shouts along with him, caught up in the shock of it.

_ This will never get old, _ Tony thinks. 

They soar skywards and then Tony turns them sideways so they start skating along the edge of the city. The lights blur, but only slightly - Tony keeps it slow, or thereabouts, for about thirty seconds, before twisting upwards and shooting towards the stars.

Behind him - or, well, in his ear, since that’s where Steve’s mouth is nearest - Steve yells again. It’s the same as last time, all pure nerves and energy, but this time there’s a laugh in it. 

“Having fun,” Tony asks.

“That’s a word for it,” Steve yells back over the wind.

Tony grins and dips into a loop. They spiral downwards, then even out, and all the while, Steve laughs like a maniac. It’s enough to drag Tony along with him, both of them laughing like idiots as they fly through the night sky.

It doesn’t get old. Tony flies them around until JARVIS mentions that someone’s posted a grainy photo of it online and Tony lands them on top of a building. It’s a skyscraper, and from here they can see most of the city.

“Time to disembark,” Tony says. 

Steve climbs off and Tony flips his faceplate up. His face hurts from grinning.

“How was it,” he says.

Steve is still giggling weakly. There are tears streaming down his face, but that’s probably from the wind. He wipes at his face clean.

“Great! That was - _ hoo _.” He scrubs some more at his face. “You know, before the serum, I went on a rollercoaster at Coney Island and threw up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Steve’s shaking with it, the laughter and probably the cold and the same nerves that Tony is shaking with inside the suit.

“Well,” Tony says. “I’m very happy you didn’t barf on me. That’d take ages to get out of the suit.”

“There’s still the ride back to yours,” Steve says. “Might puke on the way.”

“Uh-uh. You wanna puke, you puke away from me.”

“It could land on someone!”

“Don’t puke on the billion-dollar technology, Cap. Steve.”

Steve makes a face like he’s remembered that there are _ billionaires _now, and he’s talking to one. 

“How’s the future looking now,” Tony asks.

Steve gives another laugh. He runs his hands through his ruined hair and looks out over the city, all those lights, then back at Tony and his suit.

“Bright,” he says.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Tony gets Pepper down in the workshop for her tiny hands. She deals with the situation - ‘the situation’ being changing over the reactor - very competently, except for the part where she pulls out something she shouldn’t and Tony starts heading very fast towards cardiac arrest. Even then, she makes sure he doesn’t die, just like he knew she would. Her voice gets all high and panicky, sure, but so would anyone’s if they just got told they put their boss-slash-friend towards life threatening peril and had a limited time frame to prevent it.

After she clicks the last bit into place and stands back, shaking. Her hands are slimy and she holds them in front of her like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

She swallows. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I feel great.” Tony tries to force his heartbeat to slow the fuck down. _ Fine. I’m fine _. “Are you okay?”

Pepper takes a long, trembly breath. “Don’t ever, ever… _ ever _ask me to do anything like that ever again.”

Tony is feeling raw and vulnerable, despite his steady voice, which is probably why he starts to say, “I don’t have anyone but-”

Steve is at the bottom of the steps leading down to the workshop. Tony can see him through the glass - he’s not at the door but he’s looking like he had been heading towards it not long ago. He’s wavering, looking at Tony like he wants to make sure he’s okay to leave.

Tony waves him in. Pepper gives him a wide eyed look.

“_ Why is Captain America in your house,” _she hisses at Tony, and then, with a hastily pulled-together smile at Steve “Hi! I’m Miss Potts. You must be Steve.”

“I am,” Steve says. He glances over at Tony. “You alright?”

“Peachy!” Tony sits up, starts pulling electrodes off of him. “Hey, how much did you see when you were playing peeping tom?”

Steve squares his shoulders. “Nothing that will leave this room.”

“I appreciate it,” Tony says. He climbs off the table, bends down for his shirt. 

Pepper bends with him, helps pick up his jacket as well. She whispers, “_ Why is he here! Tell me you didn’t sleep with him _ !”

“You know he has superhearing, right,” Tony says.

Pepper colours. It’s always wonderful to watch, it clashes awfully with her hair. 

“God,” she says, whirling around to face Steve. “I’m - I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve says. 

“He moved in,” Tony says, pulling on his shirt. When Pepper’s wide-eyed look returns, tinged with incredulity: “We didn’t sleep together! Come on, Pep, he’s from the _ forties _.”

“Yes, men didn’t start having sex with each other until the fifties,” Steve says. He says it so dryly it takes Tony a second to realize he’s fucking with them. He wastes a good few seconds staring at Steve trying to puzzle out what the hell _ that _meant, because it could mean about thirteen different things and Tony absolutely couldn’t ask which one it was. Then he tries to work out how to respond, which Pepper also seems to be stuck with, since her mouth is moving and nothing is coming out.

“That was a joke,” Steve says after a few seconds pass and no one has said anything.

“Right,” Tony says. “No, we know. Uh. Does anyone want coffee?”

“I could use a cup,” Pepper says, in a tone that implies she could use two or three.

“Well, up we go,” Tony says.

They troop up to the kitchen, with Pepper sending him repeated glances that means Tony is _ in _ for it later, and by _ it _he means Pepper is going to reach that same pitch she’d hit when Tony had said he was headed towards cardiac arrest.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s a very normal evening coffee, when Pepper stops shooting furtive looks at Steve like she’s expecting him to break out into the national anthem at any second. After some incredibly hit or miss conversation which is really not Pepper or Steve’s fault - they’re both out of their depths, what do you say to Captain America who was in the forties a few months ago, and what does a guy like Steve say to the PA of a multibillion dollar company - they find common ground in what they’d studied in college. Specifically, Pepper had Minored in Art History and Steve had gone to art school after finishing high school.

Thus starts one of the most surreal times in Tony’s life: he watches Steve Rogers and Pepper Potts discuss their favourite art pieces. Steve is apparently excited to find out everything he’s missed while he was in the ice, and Pepper gives him some recommendations and tells him about some new things that have come up, art-wise. It sounds like gibberish to Tony but they’re both hyped about it, so he nods along and makes interested noises and keeps refilling their expresso cups.

They’re talking about Picasso and something about realism when Obie comes in.

_ Motherfucker _ , Tony thinks. _ You used to call first. _

“So we’re all hanging out in the kitchen,” Obie says, all fatherly friendliness with shit hanging on underneath. Tony is noticing all the underneath stuff a lot more since - well.

“Pepper, how are you?”

“I’m good, thank you,” Pepper says. She drops her gaze to her coffee, then up at Tony. Tony makes a face that he hopes communicates _ act cool _ and she glares at him like _ I am! YOU act cool _!

“Steve,” Obie says. “How’re you?”

“I’m good,” Steve says. “Sir. Actually, I was just about to head to bed. Excuse me.”

He rinses his cup - because of course he does - and leaves it upside down on the bench before giving Obie a tight smile that goes smoother when he looks at Tony.

“Night,” Tony tells him.

Steve pauses next to him, but only for a second. “Good night,” he says. He gives the smallest of looks towards Tony that Tony takes to mean _ give me a yell if there’s anyone I need to punch later _and leaves.

Tony puts a performance into a stretch. “Pep, you should probably head off, too. Get some beauty sleep. Not that you need any.”

“Wow, thanks,” she says, but she’s already in the middle of putting her cup in the sink. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tony. Don’t forget, you’re supposed to take a call-”

“I know, I know. I have an alarm. Night, Obie.”

Obie catches his arm just as he’s about to leave. Pepper pauses at the doorway, texting. 

“Look,” Obie says, voice low. “I know things haven’t been good between us lately. But you have to know that I only did it because I care about-”

“I know, Obie,” Tony says. He pulls himself away, but gently. “I’m - I know. I get it. I was… upset, before. But I’m over it now. I know you were just trying to help.”

Something like suspicion flits over Obie’s face, so fast that Tony wonders if he imagined it. But then it’s gone, replaced by every bit of fatherly affection he never got as a kid. Obie hadn’t paid much attention until Tony got the company.

Obie nods. Doesn’t try to touch him again. “Good. I’m glad. I want things to be good with us, Tony.”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Me, too.”

He waits. Obie does, too, but then he gives a yawn and says, “Well! Good to see you taking care of yourself, at least. Off to bed with you.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says. “Night, Obie.”

“G’night, Tony,” Obie says. “Pepper, let me walk you out?”

Pepper doesn’t look worried, but she does send a look up at JARVIS like she usually does when she talks with him, like she’s suddenly relieved the house has an AI surveilling the place.

Tony heads down the hall. He doesn’t make it far before he runs into Steve - he’s only a few feet from the kitchen doorway.

“Obie can’t try anything here,” Tony says. “He can’t get around JARVIS.”

Steve nods, but then: “Do we know that?”

“I know my AI. If Obie can get around him, I’ll eat a suit gauntlet.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Steve says.

Tony snorts. When he starts walking, Steve falls in step beside him.

“Let’s hope I’m wrong,” Tony says. “I’d prefer that I’m just a paranoid dick who thinks that the closest thing he’s got to family is plotting to kill him when really he just wants me to be okay.”

“That is preferable,” Steve says. 

They walk in silence for a length of hall. The adrenaline from getting his arc reactor replaced is far faded now, but the coffee isn’t helping relax him. Tony’s wired enough that he’s gonna need to stay up for another few hours at least.

When they get near Tony and Steve’s rooms, Tony asks, “Have you ever been betrayed before?”

Steve shakes his head. “Not like this.”

Tony makes a noise of agreement. 

They come to a stop. Tony’s room is here and Steve’s is five doors down.

“Honestly,” Tony says, “I’m not gonna be able to sleep for a while yet.”

“Going for a fly?”

“Ha. Not tonight.” Tony rubs a hand over his forehead. “How are you going on movies? Caught up yet?”

“Oh, yeah. You haven’t heard? I’ve seen every movie.”

“Awesome. That was fast.”

“Eh, not really.” 

“Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

That was fast. Tony was assuming he’d have to talk Steve into it.

They head for a lounge, then sit on a couch. It’s a big couch, thank god, so they’re not squished together. Instead they sit a perfectly sensible distance apart and Tony says, “What decade are you up to?”

“It varies.”

“How do you feel about the 70s?”

“Fine?”

“Seen The Godfather yet?”

“It’s on the list.”

“I want to see this list. Show me later. JARVIS, fire up The Godfather.”

“As you wish, Sir.”

Tony leans back into the couch. After a second, Steve does too. It’s strange seeing Steve relax, or get close to it - the closest Tony has seen to Steve being anything like _ loose _is after he’d taken them for a fly. Steve had been alight with energy after that, grinning and for once not standing at parade rest. He’s been more at ease around Tony after that, but it still looks like it takes him effort to put his guard down.

Tony doesn’t blame him. It takes effort for him, too. Steve’s in his _ house _ . Steve’s _ moved in _. Tony has lived alone since his parents died, and even before that a lot of it was like living alone, if it wasn’t for Jarvis.

The movie starts up. They make it thirty seconds in before Tony says, “I’m gonna send Pepper in to Obie soon.”

“Let me know if I can help,” Steve says.

_ At worst he’ll be useful, _ Obie says in Tony’s head.

He winces. “Yeah, I’ll think on it.”

He assumes that’ll be it, but Steve says, “She cares about you a lot.”

“Pep? Yeah. She’s a friend.”

Steve goes quiet. Then, “I used to go to watch Errol Flynn movies a lot.”

“Good actor.”

“Mm-hm. Used to drag my friend to see them, too. He got sick of it pretty fast, watching them over and over.”

“And you didn’t?”

When Tony looks over, Steve’s eyes are on the screen and his face is impassive. Is this how guys flirted with other guys in the 40s? Is Tony being flirted with? Tony is 90% sure he’s being flirted with.  
He gets out his phone and Googles Errol Flynn. 

Huh.

“Good actor,” Tony says again, and pockets his phone.

“Yep,” Steve says.

“Cute.”

A heavy pause.

“Yep,” Steve says.

Tony glances over again. Steve is still watching the screen, his eyes trained on it with such intense dedication that it implies he’s not actually paying attention.

Yeah, Tony’s definitely being flirted with. He doesn’t try the ‘arm over the shoulder yawning trick’, but it’s a close call.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Rhodey calls the next morning.

“Honeybear,” Tony says as a hello.

“Pepper called. Why the hell do you have Captain America living with you,” Rhodey replies.

Tony doesn’t have much of an answer for that.

_We’d both just been through traumatic life altering experiences that have formed the fucked up foundation of the rest of our lives _ seems too dramatic but he thinks Rhodey gets it anyway, even though Tony just says some stupid nothing-phrases about getting Steve out of that shitty apartment and out from under the government’s thumb.

“What the hell is SHIELD anyway,” Rhodey says when Tony has rambled himself to a standstill. “I’ve never heard of those guys before, but suddenly that Cap is walking around, they’ve got their fingers in everything.”

“Mm,” Tony says. “Something tells me they’ve been like that for a while. They’re just-”

“-quiet about it, yeah.” In the background there are sounds of cooking, something frying, maybe.

“Are you making your famous Rhodes Eggs,” Tony asks.

“Don’t change the subject,” Rhodey says. “Yes, I am, but we’re talking about you, here, and how you somehow got Cap to move in. What did you even say? Why did he agree to it?”

“I just,” Tony says, and pauses. “I said - I offered to get him out of his apartment. Told him I had the room. Said I’d try to make it so no one could throw him at the first random threat that pops up.”

“And he just - said yes.”

“He was very easy to convince, okay!” Tony doesn’t go into details - how fucking _ lost _Steve was, how it was so obvious that Tony wanted to - to hug him, if he was that kind of guy, or tell him everything was going to be alright. How Tony could have said a lot of things and Steve probably would’ve said yes. How it didn’t seem like Steve cared much about where he was or what he was doing, content - or complacent, at least - to be shoved anywhere people put him. How he absolutely would’ve agreed to be thrown at the first random threat that popped up, that maybe he was even looking forward to it just so he had something to punch.

“We had a movie night,” Tony says instead.

“You had a-” There’s a clatter and a curse, then Rhodey is back. “Shit. You had a _ movie night _?”

“Yep. We watched The Godfather.” _ And he flirted with me via telling me about old movie stars. _

“Huh. He like it?”

“Yeah. Said the dialogue was good.”

“So you guys are - you’re, like. Actual roommates. Instead of - two people who avoid each other in a huge house.”

“We tried avoiding each other,” Tony says. “But - we just. I don’t know. Things happened.”

“Uh-huh,” Rhodey says. “And how’s he doing?”

“Better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Less-” Faraway stares and nightmares that JARVIS mentioned and talking like it took effort, like everything took effort, like he wished they had just left him in the ice. Tony never catches him crying or anything, but he walks into rooms and finds him staring out of windows, not moving. All of this still happens, but less so now.

“Yeah,” Tony finishes. “He’s doing better.” 

Rhodey is silent for a while. He keeps taking a breath like he’s going to say something, then letting it out.

“Good to hear,” he says eventually. “He went through a lot. Re-acclimating to society's gonna be hard.”

Tony gets the clawing feeling that Rhodey isn’t just talking about Steve. “Mm.”

“Seventy years is a lot of time to lose.”

Oh thank god. “Yeah. He’s coping as well as anyone can, I think.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey says. There’s a comfortable silence where Tony listens to the famous Rhodes Eggs being cooked.

“Anything happen with Obie,” Rhodey asks.

Tony wonders just how much Pepper has told Rhodey, because he sure as hell hasn’t talked to him about it.

“What do you mean,” Tony says.

The scrape of spatula on metal. 

“Nothing,” Rhodey says. “Hey - I’m here if you need me. You know that, right?”

Tony tries not to think about it. But if Obie got him kidnapped, if he’s trying to wrench the company out from under him - that means Rhodey could do something like that, too. It’s crazy, but Tony used to think that Obie would never hurt him, either. 

“Yeah,” Tony says, and shuts off the part of his brain that’s listing reasons why Rhodey might not actually give a shit about him and is just using Tony for personal gain. “I know.”

He hangs up and turns the phone around in his hands for a while.

“JARVIS. Where’s Steve?”

“He’s currently in the gym, Sir.”

“Does he want company?”

A pause. Then JARVIS says, “He would like ten minutes to clean up before-”

“Tell him I’ll meet him in the gym,” Tony says.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s not a fair fight. Steve has the serum and actual training and Tony has - not much. 

Steve goes easy on him but there’s obviously a fire there, the guy likes fighting so much that Tony thinks about designing a bot to fight with him, something Steve can really let go with.

“Thanks,” Tony says when he’s tapped out for good. “I needed that.”

“No problem,” Steve says. Bastard has barely broken a sweat. 

Tony wipes his forearm over his forehead. It just smears the sweat around.

“You going to resurface from the gym anytime soon,” he asks.

Steve pauses where he had been heading back to the punching bag.

“I don’t know,” he says. “You ever gonna resurface from the workshop?”

Tony snorts. Tries to come up with a zinger. Fails miserably.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Trust me, pal, this is one of the better ways I could be dealing with my demons.”

Steve glances over at the punching bag. He doesn’t say anything, but Tony finds himself wondering what demons Steve has hiding under all that barely-constructed calm.

He thinks about telling Steve, _ I’m really glad I’m not the only one who’s really fucked up right now _, but he doesn’t think it’d be appreciated. Instead he tells Steve to go easy and that JARVIS will send him to bed if he’s still around in three hours, then heads to the workshop.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Obie takes out the arc reactor from Tony’s chest and all he can do it watch, so rigid that it hurts - not that it hurts enough to drown out the pain that comes from the arc reactor being forcibly removed. The second it leaves the metal cavity his chest is already screaming with it, and _ fuck _, Tony’s gonna fucking die here. The arc reactor is out and he can’t do shit about it. The paralytic has done something unpleasant that might be making his organs shut down, but that could also be Tony’s mind getting away from him, or the shock. 

_ What’d the fucker do to JARVIS - how’d he get around it - oh god this fucking hurts - _

Tony is going to die. It feels as certain as the couch under his stiff fingers, as Obie’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

“It’s unfortunate you had to involve Pepper,” Obie says. “I would’ve preferred it if she lived. Captain Rogers, too.”

Tony forces his shutting-down body to turn his head and look at Obie. Or, more accurately, slump his head in Obie’s direction and move his eyes so he’s looking into Obie’s face again. Obie is smiling, calm and satisfied, and claps him on the shoulder like a full stop,_ that’s done now _, and walks away with his suitcase that has Tony’s arc reactor inside it.

_ That doesn’t mean they’re dead _ , Tony tells himself. _ There might still be time - there might be time - I gotta - _

Time is not on his side. Tony can’t - he can’t move. Or, he can move, but so pathetically that it barely counts: thirty seconds of struggle after Obie leaves and all Tony’s done is slump sideways on the couch. Another thirty and he slides ungracefully to the floor, face slapping into it sideways. 

_ That’s gonna bruise, _Tony thinks groggily, and then he forces his shaking, jerky arms and legs to shuffle him towards the elevator. It’s a slow, agonizing journey and every minute that passes carries the shrapnel closer to his heart; sharp jabs of pain as the blood flow restricts.

Tony ignores it as best he can with his limbs giving out on him._ Don’t focus on the pain. Focus on dragging your useless fucking body to the workshop. Get to Pepper’s gift. Gotta - _

Later, he doesn’t remember much of the trip down there. Even as it happens, he drifts in and out of consciousness. What he does remember is reaching up to the table where Pepper’s gift is - proof that Tony Stark has a heart - and not being able to get it, and falling to the floor.

_ Pep, _ he thinks. _ Don’t die. Don’t be dead. What’d he do to you. Fuck what is Obie gonna do to Steve - _

Then there’s a chirp and Tony looks up. Dummy is holding the arc reactor in his blessed little claw and nudging him with it.

Tony takes it.

“Good boy,” he says, and then smashes the glass casing around the arc reactor. After that it’s a blind fumble, with Dummy chirping in concern in the background. Eventually Tony is able to make his numb fingers slide the old reactor into place, at which point he passes the fuck out, not knowing if he’s too late.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He wakes up, which is a surprise. Rhodey is shaking him gently.

“Whh,” Tony says, and wets his lips. They’re very dry.

He gets rolled over about the same time that he fires full force into consciousness, and he twists to grip Rhodey’s forearms. “Pepper - Steve - where-”

Rhodey starts, “Steve’s fine, Pepper’s with five agents that are about to arrest Obadiah-”

“What happened,” a voice says, and it takes a second for Tony to connect the dots and turn to see Steve at his other side, his eyebrows furrowed. He’s bleeding heavily from his forehead and cradling his side, which is also pretty fucking bloody.

“What happened to you,” Tony says.

“What happened to _ me _\- Tony, what did Obie-”

Steve joins with Rhodey to help Tony up, but Tony bats them both away. He stumbles a little, then straightens. He heads towards the suit.

“I’m gonna find Pepper,” he rasps. “Five agents aren’t gonna be enough to take him in.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Steve says. He limps towards Tony. He’s fucking _ limping _, Jesus, what’d Obie do?

“Nope!” Tony gets the suit to start assembling around him. “You’re staying out of this, this is my problem.”

“Tony-”

“You’re in no condition!”

“I’M in - I have the serum, you were PASSED OUT-” 

It’s the first time Tony’s heard him yell when he’s not being flown around by the armor. Tony ignores him. 

“You need me to do anything else,” Rhodey asks. 

Tony points at him. “Keep the skies clear,” he says, and flies off with Steve yelling up at him, something about how Tony’s in no damn condition, either.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The next half hour is another kind of blur. Less so because his body’s giving out and more so that everything’s happening at once - he finds Pepper and then Obie and quickly realizes okay, taking Obie _ in _might not be an option here.

Taking him _ out _\- 

It’s not something he wants to do. He tries everything to subdue rather than kill, but in the end Obie is weak and finished and reaching out a hand and saying _ Tony _-

Of course Tony reaches out a hand. Of course he stretches until Obie can take it.

And of course Obie clenches it tight and yanks and says, _ Now it’s time for both of us to go. _

Tony has had too many near-death experiences for one night. He disengages the gauntlet Obie’s holding, wrenches his hand out of it just in time for Obie to fall into the reactor, screaming all the way down.

Tony twists away from the blast that follows, and the heat hasn’t gone away when consciousness starts to slip away from him. There’s air on his hands - both bare now - and his heart is thudding, but weakly. He thinks Pepper might be calling his name, which is nice. Also means she’s alive, which is what matters.

For the second time that night, Tony passes out. Just before he does, he thinks he feels someone much closer than Pepper say his name, a figure with large shoulders and a worried, urgent voice that follows Tony down as his vision tunnels into darkness.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They won’t let him out of the hospital after Tony wakes up, even with all the money he offers the doctors. 

“What use is it being this rich if I can’t even break myself out of hospital,” Tony complains to everyone that has gathered in his room.

Everyone’s very dispassionate about that - Happy, Pepper, Rhodey and Steve are all under the impression that Tony should listen to the doctors and let them run all the tests and actually _ rest _before he gets sent home.

“I can rest at home,” Tony argues.

“You could,” Rhodey says. “But you won’t, man. We know you.”

Tony flops back against a pillow, sighing. He pretends not to notice the look that everyone trades - Obie’s dead, whatever, they keep looking at him like they expect him to break down over it. Tony’s had an adjustment period. He’s fine. He’s his brand new version of fine which is surprisingly less full of sharp edges than he thought it had to be.

When they do let him go home, Steve assures the others that he’ll look after Tony.

“Surely Captain America has better things to do than be my nanny,” Tony says.

“Not right now I don’t,” Steve says.

When Tony narrows his eyes at him, Steve holds up his hands.

“What else am I going to do,” he says, “except make sure my friend doesn’t give himself blood poisoning or overwork himself into a coma?”

“That doesn’t happen.”

“Might happen.”

“Won’t happen.”

“With you, I wouldn’t be surprised if it did.”

The others watch this exchange with expressions that Tony likes to call _ Captain America is alive and here and is doing something other than reciting the Constitution, how did this become my life _.

“I promise not to work myself into a coma,” Tony says.

“‘Course you won’t,” Steve says. “Because I’ll be looking out for you.”

Tony gives him the most withering look he can manage. Steve stays impassive, because it turns out he’s _ really _good at outlasting Tony’s bullshit.

“If it’ll give you something to do,” Tony says finally, “I guess I’ll let you watch over me, Mother Hen.”

“Gee, thanks,” Steve says.

  
  
  
  
  


Tony refuses to be babied, but he will sit in the workshop and marathon movies, which is how they spend the rest of the day after coming home from hospital.

“Looking forward to the press conference,” Steve asks after hour three of ‘sitting on the couch watching movies, no you can’t work on anything, you can have one day where you don’t work on anything, JARVIS lock the workshop please.’

“Oh, always.” Tony beams at him. “I was born to be in front of cameras.”

Steve’s mouth tug sideways, not entirely bitter but not _ not _bitter either.

“People said that about me too,” he says.

“You liked it?”

“I hated it,” Steve says, like he’s discussing his favourite brand of cereal. “You?”

“It’s alright,” Tony says, and when Steve gives him a look that clearly shows he doesn’t buy it: “You get used to it.”

Steve does bring up Obie, but only once. A movie has ended and neither of them have told JARVIS to put anything else on, so they’re just watching the credits roll. Tony’s mind is elsewhere and he suspects Steve’s is the same.

Neither of them have spoken in a while when Steve says, “So, how are you holding up?”

“Fine,” Tony says. “Do I not seem fine?”

Steve gives him another look. It starts off exasperated, but quickly turns heavier and sadder in a way that Tony has to look away from, because it’s not just about Obie, it’s about everything Tony isn’t Fine over. There’s an understanding there, a deep kind that says _ I know how you feel _ and actually means it, and Tony can’t imagine what Steve has been through, with the war and waking up seventy years later, but he’s intimately acquainted with the overwhelming feeling of being Incredibly Not Okay to the point where you can’t imagine anything past it and you truly believe you’re just going to be this fucked up for the rest of time. He’d been there not long ago and still slips back sometimes, and he knows Steve does too. They haven’t had enough time to be anything else.

Tony doesn’t say any of this. Instead he rolls his eyes and says, “Hypocrite.”

Steve laughs loud enough to startle them both. Tony watches him apologize and thinks that Steve might also feel weirdly grateful that he’s not the only one who’s this fucked up right now.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Iron Man _has a nice ring to it. Tony listens to Rhodey talk on the TV as Pepper puts the finishing touches on his face, and as Coulson comes over and hands him his alibi.

“You were on your yaucht,” Coulson says, and he keeps talking but Tony tunes out, looking over at Steve, who is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Steve is watching the TV, but Tony has barely been looking at him for two seconds before Steve meets his eyes.

“Mr. Stark,” Coulson says, and Tony tunes back in.

“Yeah, I got it,” Tony says. “Yaucht, right.” He flips through the cards. “There’s nothing about Stane here.”

“It’s been handled,” Coulson says. “He’s on vacation. Small aircrafts have such a poor safety record.”

Tony holds still as Pepper finishes dabbing concealer on his cheek and blends it in. “What’s this whole story that it’s a body guard? He’s my body-? That’s kind of flimsy.”

Coulson, as always, is unimpressed. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Mr. Stark. Just stick to the official statement and soon this will all be behind you.”

He turns and starts to leave, but he does a double-take upon seeing Steve. His mouth opens and closes.

Steve waits, then holds out a hand. “Hi. I’m Steve.”

“I didn’t know you would be-” Coulsons stops, swallows. He takes Steve’s hand like it’s Obama who just offered him a handshake. “It’s an honour. Sir. Captain.”

“Unofficially,” Steve says.

“Right, of course.” Coulson seems to notice the handshake has been going on too long and lets go. “You haven’t been announced to the public yet. I’m - yes.”  
Tony grins. Unflappable guy has been flapped.

Coulson pauses, still staring, then turns to Tony like he’s just remembered he was in the room.

“Ninety seconds. Stick to the cards,” he says, and leaves, with only a tiny glance back at Steve.

“I’ll be outside,” Pepper says. She puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder and Tony nods at her, gives her a quick smile.

“Thanks, Pep.” He waits until the door closes behind her, then says, “I gotta say, this is impressive. Even I believe I’m not Iron Man.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. He pushes off the wall and comes closer until he’s standing in front of Tony. He looks him over and Tony feels his gaze like a weight, but not an unwelcome one - more of a comforting pressure than something dragging him down.

“Do you think I should stick to the cards,” he asks.

Steve pauses. “I think that would be the sensible thing to do.”

“Mm. Sensible. That doesn’t suit me, does it?”

“It could.”

Tony bends the cards and then lets them go. They jump straight back to being straight.

“What if I get up there and - and there’s something in my heart I gotta say? It just has to come out? That’s not on the cards, but I gotta follow my heart, right?”

Steve’s lips twitch. 

Tony asks, “All your speeches, were they from the heart?”

“On the propos? No. In the field, yes.”

Tony sighs. He makes it especially long-suffering. He looks down at the cards, then up at Steve. He flashes his most winning smile. “Kiss for luck?”

Steve shifts on the spot. Folds his arms, then unfolds them and puts his hands in his pockets. He glances back at the door.

Tony’s smile dims. “Hey-”

He stops when Steve leans down and kisses him. It’s a fir press and it starts like it’s meant to be quick, but it ends up lingering. Tony spares a quick thought to all the cover-up makeup he’s wearing, but the thought vanishes as soon as it comes.

Steve pulls back. His hands are still in his pockets and his face is flushed, but only slightly.

Tony realizes his mouth is hanging open. He closes it.

“That wasn’t for luck,” Steve says. “That was - it was just-”

“Got it,” Tony says, which is a baldfaced lie. He adjusts his tie. “Okay, I gotta. I gotta -”

“Yeah.” Steve steps back so Tony can stand.

Behind them on the TV, Rhodey is telling the crowd that Tony is about to come out. Tony heads for the door. Steve follows, and just as Tony’s about to step out he touches Steve’s arm and gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

Steve gives one back. It’s uncertain, but so is Tony’s, so that’ll have to do for now.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Tony speaks from the heart. Maybe. Later, Rhodey tells him he was speaking from his dick, and Tony can’t tell him that’s 100% false. 

In the moment, though, it was - it just felt _ right _. Right in the same way the suit felt right. Right like - like some other new things that are fitting into place with surprising ease.

Steve and Tony get dropped off at home and they head straight for the workshop. Iron Man is running on every news outlet, but Tony doesn’t think about that as he stares at Mark II. He’s already formulating new versions.

“So,” Steve says. He’s looking at the suit just like Tony is - like he’s looking into a future. “What’s next?”

Tony leans sideways, bumps their arms together. “I don’t know,” he says. “Actually, I was hoping you’d help me figure that out. Also, unrelated note: you know that homosexuality is legal now, right? You’ve run across it on your Googling, I know you Google, JARVIS told me-”

“I’m aware,” Steve says. He hesitates, then takes Tony’s hand. “They gave me a pamphlet.”

“Oh, a _ pamphlet _. Thank God.” Tony links their fingers together and does his best not to feel like a grade schooler with a crush. “Okay, good. Just wanted to make sure.”

“I’m sure.”  
“Well, good.” Tony grins, squeezes Steve’s hand. “Now, we were talking about what’s next. Ideas?”

“I’m thinking about putting a uniform back on. Being Captain America again.”

“Yeah? Great. Iron Man could use a sidekick.”

Steve laughs. It’s one of those laughs that surprises them both, and Tony grins at hearing it - he wants to coax those out more and more, until they’re no longer a surprise. He wants to get them to a place where Steve laughs easily and doesn’t wander around the house at 3am after waking up from nightmares and go off into thousand-yard stares at random times. Tony had assumed, coming back home, that he’d be this new, fucked-up version of himself for the rest of his life, and he knows Steve thought so, too. Neither of them could see a version of themselves who weren’t constantly on edge and holding on by their fingertips, and they’re both still very much riding on the edge of Absolutely Not Okay, but Tony thinks that maybe they can get further away from it. They can build themselves into two people who are okay, maybe. 

_ Bright _ , Steve had said when they’d gone for a fly together - _ the future looks bright. _

Tony can’t help but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> here's my [tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/).


End file.
